The Bottom Whine

Sunday, February 1, 2015

Once upon a time
and not that long ago my bucket list was filled to the brim with places to go
and things to see, but not anymore. That bucket has sprung a leak; in fact,
it’s hemorrhaging.

ENGLAND had once been at the top of my
travel list, but now it’s a place where Jewish bikers are stoned, Rabbis
attacked, synagogues fire bombed, Jewish-owned businesses threatened with
burnings and bombings, swastikas painted on Jewish homes and houses of worship,
and where death threats against Jews have become commonplace. The number of
anti-Semitic attacks in England
hit a 30-year high in 2014, 95% of all hate
crimes were against Jews, and a recent survey of British Jews revealed that 50%
see no future there and are intending to leave.

Rabid
anti-Semites also include members of Parliament, such as neo-Nazi MP George
Galloway, leader of the “Respect Party” (I kid you not!) who – with the support
of his constituency -- has declared the district of Bradford an “Israel-free
zone.” That means no Israeli goods,
services, academics, or Jewish tourists. Ta Ta to merry old England…

…
and au revoir to FRANCE, which also experienced an unprecedented
number of anti-Semitic events in 2014. In
the past two years alone, there have been eight synagogue attacks, Jewish
homes, businesses, and houses of worship have been looted and firebombed, Jews
terrorized and verbally attacked with: “Death to the Jews…Hitler was right…Slit
Jewish throats,” and “Gas the Jews!” In France
a seventeen-year-old- girl was pepper sprayed in the face and called a “Dirty
Jewess,” a woman who hung an Israeli flag on her porch received death threats,
and people who “look Jewish,” can be beaten to a pulp by Islamists on Paris metros. Add to that the 2012 murder of three Jewish
children and their teacher in Toulouse, the fire bombing of its Jewish Community
Center, and the continuing harassment of this community, and you’ll understand
why 7,000 French Jews emigrated in 2014, and 10,000 more are expected to leave
in 2015.

Anti-Semitism
has become so mainstream in France
that the “comedienne” Dieudonne has become a celebrity for popularizing a
reverse Nazi-salute which he and his followers enjoy flashing at Jews.

This anti-Semite recently announced
to the world: “I am Charlie Coulibaly,”
(as in “I am Charlie Hebdo"), the family name of the terrorist brothers who
murdered four Jewish men in the kosher supermarket in January of this year (while their
comrades were busy killing twelve journalists and cartoonists at the offices of
Charlie Hebdo.). .

Life in France
will become even more dangerous, considering that the 1,000 homegrown
terrorists who went to Syria
to join ISIS, et. al, have returned … but cannot be found.

Another
hole shot in the bucket!

In
BELGIUM terrorists killed four
non-Jews this past year at the Jewish Museum in Brussels, thinking they were
Jews, a doctor refused medical assistance to a 90-year-old woman because she
was Jewish, a train conductor announced he was going to send Jewish passengers
to Auschwitz, a storekeeper posted a sign in his storefront that reads: “Jews
and Zionists not allowed but dogs are,” and a woman was refused service because
“management doesn’t sell to Jews.”

Once again, it’s
not just the riff-raff at work. Elected
politicians have joined in the fun, calling for the “slaughter of Jews” at a
500-person rally in Antwerp
this past summer. It’ll get worse in Belgium before it gets better – now that 300
home-grown terrorists who fought with ISIS in Syria have returned.

Another piss hole
in the old bucket!

Hate
speech might be a crime in GERMANY, but it’s not one the authorities take
seriously. That’s why Berlin’s leading imam feels free to call
upon allah and his congregationists to “slit Jewish throats…destroy the Zionist
Jews… kill them, down to the very last one,” and the far right Green Party
calls for the gassing of Jews. This
satanic union has led to multiple attacks on Jews, their homes and houses of
worship. Germany?
No thanks. Alviderzein.

And
remember Holland, once the home of “live and let
live”? Now it’s a country where its Chief
Rabbi is twice-attacked with stones,
anti-Semitic crowds scream for the “slaughter” of Jews, Holocaust
memorials are defaced; Jewish women are targeted in fire bombings, the CIDI
(the Netherlands main anti-Semitism watchdog group) receives more than 70 calls
every month from alarmed citizens, and in the Hague (home of the International Criminal
Court, a political organization dependent on donor countries), the mayor
refuses to order the arrest of ISIS supporters threatening to kill Jews in the
city center (while ISIS simultaneously posts photos of their day’s beheadings
on Twitter).

This is the New Holland, where murderers
fear no reprisals for violent anti-Semitic attacks.Another hole in the bucket!

And no to DENMARK, where Jewish children are warned not
to wear religious symbols to school or near school grounds for fear of attacks,
Jewish tourists are told to hide their
religion, and Israelis are cautioned to speak Hebrew “softly.” And it’s in Denmark
that the deputy head of the National Zionist Organization receives death
threats and the government shuts down a peaceful pro-Israel rally but lets threatening
Muslims take over the streets. Peaceful
voices are silenced, and hate mongers rewarded.
Things are still rotten in Denmark.
Ping. Ping!

And scratch off SWEDEN -- where anti-Semitic attacks
have tripled in the last three years and DOUBLED after the January attacks in
Paris-- and NORWAY, where
anti-Semitism has become so pervasive that most of its tiny 1,000 Jewish
community (less than .0002% of the population) is leaving the country.

I’ll leave Scandinavia to the Scandinavians and their peace-loving
population.

And
“no” to HUNGARY, where last year a member of its parliament publicly demanded that
a list be made of all Jews in the country because he considered them to be a
“security risk.” This anti-Semite is
still in office.

ITALY’s
peace-loving citizens spent 2014 defacing Jewish homes and houses of worship with
swastikas, spray painting Jewish businesses with anti-Semitic graffiti (i.e. “Dirty Jews….Jews, your end is near”) and attacking
Jewish fans at a baseball game with baseball bats and knives because their team
lost. But what else can you expect in a country where a member of the Italian
parliament announces on its state radio station that “Israel is a bit
worse than the Nazis,” and “I’d like to shoot those Zionist bastards!” Arrividici, Italia.

And SPAIN? No
way, Jose. This dystopian country is mismanaged,
bankrupt, and schizophrenic. The left
hand doesn’t know what the right hand is doing so while the Government puts out
a worldwide APB to Jewish descendents of the Spanish Inquisition (those they
didn’t burn alive at the stake), extending a (bladed) hand in friendship and an
invitation to return to Spain after 500 years and gain a Spanish passport, the publishers
of Spain’s second largest newspaper, El Mundo, explains to its readers that
Jews were expelled in 1500 because they “cannot coexist with others…Jews end up
creating problems for everyone…It’s not a surprise they have been so frequently
expelled.” …

…and celebs like Penelope Cruz and
Jamie Bardeem lead packs of anti-Semites though Spanish streets screaming for
Jewish “heads,” but, hey, Bardeem’s no anti-Semite. “Some of my best friends are Jews,” he
proclaims.

Spain is also
the home of the cowardly Real Madrid basketball team, which -- after losing to
the Maccabi Tel Aviv team -- screamed anti-Semitic obscenities at the players
and continued their temper tantrums on social media.

Nah. I’m not going to Spain,
which ranks third on a list of Europe’s most
anti-Semitic countries. Another
piss-hole in the bucket!

I’m skipping GREECE, as well, considering that 69% of
the populace was found to be anti-Semitic, the neo-Nazi party, the Golden Dawn,
grows in strength, and 16% of the last mayoral vote went to a candidate with a swastika
tattooed on his shoulder.

And NO, NO, NO to TURKEY, where the Erdogan government leads
the anti-Semitic dog pack, holding Turkish Jews personally responsible for
Israeli policies and threatening them with pogroms (to be led by Turkey’s
“unconstrained youth”) if Israel doesn’t do Turkey’s bidding. And it’s in Turkey where parliamentarians
participate in violent anti-Israel demonstrations and can be heard screaming in
the streets: “May God Bless Hitler.”

Ping! Ping! Slosh! What a mess on the floor! This bucket
is beyond repair. Time for a new one!

Yeah,
I know. My critics will say that most
Europeans are peace-loving people. Maybe so, but they’re irrelevant because when the going gets rough, those same peace-loving people get going – in some OTHER
direction. My recommendation to the Jews
of Europe: Get the hell out, and until
you do, arm yourselves!

Sunday, January 4, 2015

About the worst insult one can hurl at writers and speakers is to accuse them of being a purveyor of cliches, and, therefore, deficient in original thinking. In truth, attacking cliches has become a cliche itself.

Well, I’m here to defend the cliché and those who use them
and to convince you that the study of the cliché not only improves one’s critical
thinking but teaches us to appreciate the history of human experiences, shared across
cultures, language groups, and time.

To begin, ask yourself:

“Why would
a group of words be used, re-used, and overused?

The answer:

Because they describe undeniable truths
about the human experience,
and they do so effectively and efficiently. Cliches are shorthand forms
to human behavior
and history.

The cliché’s crime is its success, and its success lies in its
ability to cut to the gut (a future cliché, I hope) of a matter in a language understood
by all. Oh, yes, I suppose a writer or
speaker could invest countless hours in search of a new and different way to
say “A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,” but why bother when chances
are the result will be second-rate and not connect as powerfully as the original with the
receiver?

And that’s because clichés reflect the best thinking of our
forebears. Their users should be thanked
for perpetuating their usage; in fact, if I had my way, public schools would be
mandated to teach a course on the “The Wisdom of the Cliché.” If studied, understood, and examined through observation, we would all be better-armed against double-talk, scams,
fluff, and all around bullshit. The cliche, a rational commentary on life, lets you penetrate below superficial surface structures to the truths that lie below.

To prove my point, take the three cliché tests
below, all descriptions of real life events, and pick the cliché(s) that go to
“the heart of the matter.”

1.A
parishioner attends the same church every
Sunday for twenty years and listens to the minister deliver anti-American and
anti-Semitic sermons. Later in life, the parishioner insists
that he never agreed with the minister’s views of the world.

a) It’s not what you say. It’s what you do.

b)Birds
of a feather flock together.

c)You
will be judged by the company you keep.

d)Lay
down with dogs, get up with fleas.

All four describe the truth of the parishioner’s behavior.

2.An
engaged woman is leaving her hospital room after undergoing abdominal
surgery. Her fiancé says to her: ‘I’m glad that’s over. I was sure worried about you.” He starts out the door, turns to see if she
is following, and says: “Pick up your
suitcase, Honey, and let’s go. I sure do
love you.”

a)A
friend in need is a friend in deed.

b)Actions
speak louder than words.

c)What
you see is what you get.
d) A stitch in time saves nine.

A, B and C are correct. (And my advice to the young woman is
to “run, don’t walk, to the nearest exit!” ALONE!)

3.We
are told that Cuba
is an economic and social success; that its people are healthy, happy, and
productive. Yet on a recent eight-day
tour of Cuba, my
fellow-travelers and I were chased through the streets of Havana by crowds of raggedy people, begging
for food, soap, and toilet paper.
Scaffoldings -- erected 15 plus years earlier for the purpose of
reconstructing deteriorating buildings – were now stories-high metal trellises,
now long-time carriers of vines and debris. And driving hundreds of miles across the island, one sees only a trickle of cars and trucks (until the vintage cars of Havana). Most transport is by horse-drawn wagons, and despite the obvious
shortage of food in the country, acre after acre of fields are uncultivated.

a)One
picture is worth a thousand words.

b)Seeing
is believing

c)Don’t
believe everything you read.

d)Killing
two birds with one stone.

The answers: a, b, and c.

At the root of these vignettes and all good stories (novels, plays, movies) are cliches. And that's because LIFE IS A CLICHE! These age-old truths are not the products of lazy minds, but their automatic rejection is most definitely a sign of the closed mind.

To reject the cliche is to reject human history.

Whiningly yours, Carol

Cliches deserve your respect. They are not the product of a lazy mind, but
their automatic rejection is most definitely the product of a closed mind. To reject
the cliché is to reject human history!

Saturday, December 6, 2014

It’s December, which means that in no time at all New
Year’s Eve will be here. But instead of
getting excited, I am indifferent, and I wonder if there are others like me who
hate New Year’s Eve. I do a Google
search and input “I hate New Year’s Eve,” and would you believe? There are over 6,500,000 entries. Apparently I’ve got plenty of company. I don’t know what their beefs are, but I can
tell you mine.

It started way back, as far back as I can remember. My parents would be all gussied up and flushed
with excitement, apparently heading out for the be-all and end-all of nights,
while I was being left behind in the care of a babysitter who obviously hated
me. The sitter’s instructions were to
take me to a movie. She would enter the
movie house, hat pulled down low over her forehead, and look furtively about, praying
that no one she knew would see her. As
young as I was, I got the message: the worst thing that could happen to a girl
of dateable age was to be seen in public on New Year’s Eve without a date.

Years
later, when it was Near Year’s Eve, and I was of dateable age and without a
date, I would close my bedroom door, draw the drapes, take the phone off the
hook, and read a book. God forbid anyone
should know that I was
dateless. And back at school after the
holidays, when the girls would stand together describing in exaggerated detail their
fabulous New Year’s Eve, I would join in with a fictionalized account of my
own. I was out-of-town, of
course. Out-of-town dates were
impossible to disprove… plus they sounded more exotic.

One
year I was in Chicago, where I met up with my
long time pen pal and his family, who were visiting from Paris. We made the rounds of comedy clubs and
ate dinner in an exclusive restaurant. Dustin Hoffman was at the next
table. Another year I joined a group of
exchange students from Mexico at a private party hosted by the Mexican Museum
of Art, but my finest New Years Eve fantasy took place in Cleveland, where my
cousins and I went on a city-wide scavenger hunt that took us to bars, restaurants,
famous landmarks, and—in the end – to a police station for a pair of
handcuffs.

I was
thankful when in my senior year of high school I was invited to a party. I didn’t think I could dream up anything to top
the previous year’s scavenger hunt. John
came to the house, and with shaky hands, pinned a corsage to my dress (that was
the fashion back then), and off we went. I was looking forward to a night as unforgettable
as the ones I had invented, one filled with witty jokes, clever repartee, and
Ginger Rogers-Fred Astaire-like dancing couples; instead, we all stood
awkwardly about, waiting for someone – anyone – to make this night different
from all other nights. It wasn’t; in
fact, it was worse – except for the few minutes some time before (or after)
midnight during the Disputation.

“Get ready!” the host yelled. “It’s midnight!” “No, it isn’t!” someone argued. “It’s five
minutes to." Another voice piped in. “You’re both wrong. We missed it.
It’s five minutes after twelve.” Everyone was on a different time. Mayhem ensued… until the voice of reason took
over. “It doesn’t matter what time it
is,” he shouted. “It’s arbitrary. So I say that the New Year starts when I reach
zero. So get ready! Pick up your glasses! Sixty, fifty-nine…” And down he went. When he hit zero, screamers screamed. Drinkers drank. Tooters tooted. Kissers kissed, and John planted a
saliva-drenched smack on my mouth. It
was all downhill from there.

If I had
known years earlier that New Year’s Eve was a hoax, I would have enjoyed those
nights I spent behind a closed door, curtains closed, and the phone off the
hook. Yes, New Year’s Eve is different
from all other nights, I decided. It’s
worse, much worse, but how could it be otherwise? Such a build-up can only lead to a letdown, which
is why I spent the next two New Year’s Eves in my bedroom.

In my
junior year of college I was part of a sixty-student contingency traveling by
busses to Mexico City
for a semester of study. On New Year’s
Eve we stopped for an overnight in the town of Ciudad de Valles. One hotel room became the designated party
room. When we arrived at the party, three naked young men were in the bathtub,
singing their hearts out. Fifty-seven more
students stormed the bathroom and joined in a drunken rendition of Auld Lang
Syne.

This was no forced gaiety. This was real. These were the unconstrained voices of
students in the 1950’s who were suddenly liberated; no dorm mothers, counselors,
chaperones, hall monitors, sign-in, sign-out sheets, or curfews for probably the
first time in their lives. We had freedom
of choice: to behave or misbehave, get drunk or stay sober, stay with the crowd
or go to sleep. It was a New Year’s Eve that
surpassed all my imaginary exploits. That
raised the question: could such a high lead to comparative lows in the future?

The answer to that question is: if and only if you buy into the commercial fantasy
of New Year Eve: the $100 a plate dinner, an on-site presence at Times Square when the ball drops, or being in a roomful
of old friends you’ve never met before. You
have the power to make New Year’s Eve (and every other eve) whatever you want
it to be. But if you’re one of those
people who makes a list of resolutions for the new year, do yourself a favor
and don’t!

First of all, you and 92% of the population
will break them before the month is out – at which point you will beat yourself
up. So this year make yourself a
different kind of list -- a list of your past year’s successes. Let the positive energy of everything you did
right in 2014 carry you into 2015.

Saturday, November 8, 2014

Borders
have existed since time immemorial. It’s part of our DNA -- to mark off the
spaces between us – and the others.We
create borders for personal, political, social, economic, health, and security
reasons.We fix boundaries between our home and our neighbors’
-- subtly, even subconsciously -- with vegetation, driveways, rock piles, etc… and, of course, a legal document.Finally, and most importantly, we expect these borders, once established, to be secure and
respected. In that regard, our southern border with Mexico is a joke.

Many
call it “porous, but “porous” seems a bit disingenuous, considering that at
least 11 million illegal immigrants have already crossed that border and are
now living in the United States. Tens of
thousands more enter illegally every month.
Our border isn’t porous. It’s
wide open. So far this year 90,700
illegals have crossed that border and entered the U.S. That’s double the number for
the same period last year, and
numbers are expected to increase further in 2015. Among this year’s illegals are 60,000 unaccompanied
children (UC) from Central American countries.
That number is expected to reach 100,000 before the end of 2014 and to
climb higher in 2015. To what do we owe
this great success? The U.S. Government.

In 2008 -- when
our economy was already depressed economically and hundreds of thousands of
people were out of work – Congress passed the “Trafficking Victims Protection
Authorization Act, which provides asylum to
Unaccompanied Children (UC) from Central America whose lives are in
danger. These children, upon arriving in
the U.S, are asked by border agents if they are afraid of being killed in their
home country. If the answer is “yes,”
then an appointment is made with an immigration judge who decides the veracity
of the claim. If the judge finds the claim believable, the
UC can stay.

The recent onslaught
of tens of thousands of illegals has overwhelmed border staffing and created such
a backlog of petitioners that it could take years for a UC to get a hearing (This
is a deliberate and successful strategy!).
Meanwhile, agents have no choice but to place these children in the
custody of family and friends. To date: 85%
of all “fear” claims have been approved, which may explain why these petitions have
tripled since 2012….

The WELCOME MAT grows
cushier and plusher…

… as the Obama administration defers
deportation of more than 500,000 illegals and hints it might grant amnesty to
as many as 5 million.

Which
begs the question: why would anyone
bother to immigrate legally when there are only incentives for entering
illegally and deterrents for legal applicants?
Whereas 98% of all illegals enter relatively quickly, can expect immunity,
get a green card or visa within three years and U.S. citizenship within thirteen, the
legal applicant could easily wait up to fifteen years to enter and 25 for
citizenship. According to U.S. Representative
Jim Sensenbrenner, our current immigration policy is holding skilled workers hostage
to comprehensive immigration reform. (What about the rest of us?)

And while our
Government acts as a giant magnet, attracting illegals to the U.S., their home countries do everything
they can to facilitate their departure -- equipping them with directions, maps
and guides to the border. And who can
blame them? Mexico’s
second largest source of foreign revenue -- approximately $20 billion a year --
comes from Mexicans working in the U.S. who send money back home to
their families. Never a good deed goes unpunished:
think Andrew Tahmooressi, who served two tours of duty in Afghanistan and returned home with PTSS, made a
wrong turn en route to California and entered Mexico. For 214 days he was held in captivity under
rude and crude conditions, beaten by guards, and chained to his bed post, naked, for nine hours. With friends like that, who needs enemies?

Adding fuel to the
illegal immigration fire is the influx of gang members, terrorists, drug and
sex traffickers.This summer, 14 members
of Mara Salvatruccha (MS-13), one of the world’s most notorious transnational
criminal gangs, tried to enter the U.S.They were apprehended at the border, but not
because of any brilliant investigative work by agents. While waiting to be processed, members painted
gang-related graffiti on walls of the center.But don’t relax!For every illegal
interviewed and given a “pass,” three illegals pass unseen over the border and
disappear. (Government Accountability
Office)This might explain why MS-13 has gained a
major foothold in the U.S, continues to expand its influence, and why gang memberships
have increased in the past ten years from 200,000 to one million.(Michael Sullivan, Director of the Bureau of
Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives)

Islamic terrorists
have also taken note of our hospitality.
In August of this year the Texas Department of Public Safety and
Homeland Security alerted federal agents that Islamist terrorist groups operating
in Mexican border towns were exploiting weaknesses (are there any strengths?) at
the border. On October 8th
Homeland Security confirmed that ten (10) ISIS and Al Qaeda terrorists had been
apprehended in Texas by federal authorities
but that another 40 had slipped into the U.S. Recent intelligence confirms that terrorist
groups are planning attacks on the U.S. with car bombs and other
vehicle-borne improvised explosive devices (VBIED). Border states
are on high alert, and Ft.Bliss has increased
security measures.

ISIS and Al Qaeda are not the only
terrorist groups eyeing our southern border.
In 2013 290 illegal Somalis entered the U.S. Of these, three have
subsequently been found guilty of providing support for Al Shabab.

Carriers of
scabies, lice, and chicken pox have been crossing the border for years, and now
it’s possible that Ebola will become part of the mix. (PewResearchCenter). When “Investigative
Radio” asked Chris Cabreta --Vice President of the National Border Patrol
Council in the Rio GrandeValley -- if illegals entering
this summer had been screened for diseases, he answered that because of the onslaught
of illegals “a lot slips through the cracks.”
Slipping through those cracks were 71 illegals from Ebola-infected
countries who were not screened.

The Department of
Homeland Security blames Obama’s lax immigration policies for the country’s
inability to stop terrorists from entering the U.S. “He and his administration have announced to
the world they will not enforce our immigration laws.” (U.S. Senator Jeff
Sessions).

THE BOTTOM WHINE: Illegals
experience no negative consequences for breaking the law –only rewards, which
is why Albert Spratte of the National Border Patrol Council observes: “We used to chase after them (the illegals). Now they chase after us.”

Whiningly
yours, Carol

P.S. If you like The Bottom Whine, you might also enjoy my novel "Coming of Age...AGAIN." It is about four women "of a certain age" who prove that with a mix of moxie, humor, wisdom, and a weekly mahjongg game, coming of age can happen more than once. Available at www.amazon.com/author/carolmizrahi

Wednesday, October 1, 2014

Once
upon a time the words “Secret Service” conjured up images of virile, responsible
men, dressed in suits, packing pistols, and wearing ear pieces and sunglasses, and charged with the formidable task of protecting the President of the United States.Like I said, that was “once upon a
time.”Now “Secret Service” evokes
images of middle-aged fraternity boys, drinking, whoring, and snoring on the
job, the 21st’Century’s take on the bungling Keystone Kops.

When did that imagery
begin to change? In 2009, a year after
President Obama took office, when Secret Service agents ignored security
protocol at the White House, and Tareq and Michaele Salahi crashed a private
party. Actually, they did more than
crash. They got close enough to the President
to shake his hand. Good thing they hadn’t greased their palms with poison. Secret Service bungling was later discovered only
because Michaele Salahi posted photos of herself taken at the event on her
Facebook page. The Salahis were not the
only gate crashers that night. Carlos
Allen, a party promoter, also got past the government’s so-called “security.”

Then, in April of
2012, twelve Secret Service agents were sent to Cartegena, Columbia
to secure routes and sites before President Obama’s arrival for the sixth “Summit of the Americas.” For the week prior to
the Summit, the
twelve agents mounted their own summits with local prostitutes.

It’s possible
their dereliction of duty might also have gone unnoticed if one of these brawn but
no brains agents hadn’t decided not to pay his lady love the $47 he owed her
for the sleepover. The lady – smarter
than the agent -- filed a report with the local police, and the police notified
the U.S. Embassy. All of this transpired just twenty-four hours before the
President arrived in Cartegena. These
agents not only set themselves up for possible blackmail (all were married) but
could have jeopardized the President’s safety.
When news of the orgy reached
Conference delegates, agenda topics --
trade, energy, and regional security -- took a back seat to joking and jiving about
American’s fittest and finest.

What could these
agents have been thinking, I asked myself – rousing and carousing while on
assignment? In truth, they hadn’t been
thinking at all. As my wise old
Grandmother used to say: “When the prick
is up, the brain is down.”

Following the
Columbian fiasco, the President replaced the then-Director of the Secret
Service with Julia Pierson, a thirty-year administrative veteran with no field
experience. Her assignment was to clean
up the Agency and “rehabilitate” its reputation. But in April of this year, three elite
members of the Secret Service, sent to Amsterdam to set up security systems for
protecting the president during an upcoming visit, drank heavily for a week and
were still drinking the day before Obama’s arrival (Agency rules strictly
forbid agents to drink alcohol in the hours preceding official assignments). One of the agents got so drink that he passed
out in the hotel hallway. A hotel employee
notified the U.S. Embassy, and the three agents were sent home.

Despite continued evidence
of the Agency’s kindergarten behavior, Obama continued to applaud Ms. Pierson’s
management, but that may soon be changing.
On September 19, Omar Gonzales, a veteran of three tours of duty in Iraq
and diagnosed with PTSD, scaled the fence on the North side of the White House,
ran 70 yards across the lawn to the executive mansion, opened the unlocked
doors, and entered. He knocked down a
Secret Service agent and got as far as the East Room, which is close to the
stairs leading upstairs to the Obama family’s residence, when he was finally
tackled by an Agent and handcuffed. A
folding knife was in his pocket, and in his car -- parked nearby -- were
machetes, hatchets, and 800 rounds of ammunition.

That
wasn’t the first time Secret Service agents had “interviewed” Mr.
Gonzales. Two months earlier he was arrested
in Virginia
for possession of a sawed-off shotgun and resisting arrest. Police found a cache of rifles and handguns in
his car, plus a map of the City of Washington,
a line drawn to the White House steps.
Yet Secret Service agents determined that Gonzales was not a threat, and
he was released.

A month later, in
August, Gonzales was again stopped by a Secret Service Agent when he was seen
near the White House south fence, a hatchet adorning his waistband. The mental giants at the Agency again concluded
that Gonzales was “no threat.”

You have to wonder
what the Agency considers a threat to national security if it’s not 800 rounds
of ammunition, knives, sawed-off shotguns, machetes, hatchets, and a map
marking the pathway to the front door of the White House. What kinds of tests – if any -- do future
agents have to take before being admitted to the Secret Service? Probably something like: Can you find the one image from below that represents a clear and imminent danger?

You also have to wonder where our biggest
and best were when Gonzales jumped that fence and entered the White House
through unlocked doors. You might also
wonder where the watch dogs were, and why the Secret Service, in all its
infinite wisdom had muted the alarm system.
Most of all, you have to wonder why Ms. Pierson, following this fiasco, commended
the agents for showing “tremendous restraint.” So now all the geniuses in Washington are deliberating: how can we better secure the White
House? Their answer: block off
additional streets so unwanted visitors have farther to travel to reach the
front door. Let’s think about that. If the agents can’t secure a “smaller” space,
why would they be more able to guard a larger area? Besides, the problem is not OUTSIDE the
fence. It comes from the INSIDE!

So what is
the answer? Before finding the answer,
one must first ask the right question: “Who’s in charge”?

I’ve noticed that
in medical clinics supportive staffs generally reflect the attitudes of those
at the top – the doctors. When doctors are
professional, thorough, and polite to patients, so are supporting staffs. But when those at the top are arrogant,
non-receptive, and rude, so goes the staff.
I call it “Clinic Culture.”
Clinic Cultures exists across all offices -- private and public. If there’s slop at the top, there’s slop at
the bottom!

See where I’m
going? If Secret Service agents are unprofessional
and irresponsible, they are reflecting values learned -- either consciously or
through osmosis – from their Director.

And if Ms. Pierson
teaches a culture of laxity and carelessness, whose signals has she been
following?

THE BOTTOM WHINE: Monkey see. Monkey do!

Whiningly yours, Carol

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No whines, just laughs, as four friends of a "certain age" prove that with a mix of moxie and a weekly mahjongg game, coming of age can happen more than once. Available through Amazon in paperback and kindle editions:

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7: THE INCREDIBLE SHRINKING – EVERYTHING:
You think you’re getting the same amount of packaged and canned food, but thanks to clever repackaging, you’re getting less… and paying more!
#6: THEY’RE DRIVING ME CRAZY!
… the drivers who shoot in front of you from a side street at 60 MPH and then proceed at 30 MPH… who text, talk, eat, and apply make-up when they’re behind the wheel…
#5: NOISE, NOISE, AND MORE NOISE
OSHA defines construction site noise at 160 dB and up. The average noise at major restaurant chains, like Texas Roadhouse, is 160 dB…
#4: “YOUR CALL IS VERY IMPORTANT TO US”
The American Psychiatric Institute warns that the Call Center Derangement Syndrome (CCDS) and the Customer Service Unhinging Disorder (CSUD) are reaching epidemic levels…
#3: THE SMILE OF A CROCODILE
If you know or meet someone who wears a perpetual smile, take my advice and run as fast as you can – in the opposite direction. They’re up to no good!
#2: THE WAR AGAINST THE LABELS
Why do manufacturers and designers sew rough labels with scratchy threads into clothing exactly where they hit raw skin?
#1: THE BUST OF THE BRA
Maybe if I were a monkey and had eyes in the back of my head, I’d be able to reach the strap adjustment hooks at the back of the bra, but I’m not. Only a man could have come up with that idea!

About Me

I am the author of of "Coming of Age...AGAIN," a novel about four friends of a "certain age," who prove that with a mix of moxie, humor, wisdom, and a weekly mahjongg game, coming of age can happen more than once!
"Coming of Age...AGAIN," where wisdom meets wit.
www.amazon.com/author/carolmizrahi

ABOUT WHINING:

My whining began when I got onto Twitter and Facebook to promote my novel. When someone finally followed me, I became paranoid. "Go away, or I'll call the cops!" My photo of the intersection signs for Margaret and Atwood in Madison, WI didn't send me viral. I was never even thanked. And after a week on Facebook, the only person who wanted to be my friend was a young woman dressed in a G-String. Then my Grandchildren told me that if I didn't unsubscribe, they would never speak to me again.